


Squish

by sabinelagrande



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Embarrassment, Food, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-12
Updated: 2009-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is possibly the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squish

Rodney doesn't walk through the gate so much as storm through, already yelling and waving his arms. His shirt and shoes are missing, and there's something yellow all up and down his body.

"And anyone who says a fucking _word_ never takes another hot shower as long as I _live_!" he shouts, shaking an accusatory finger at the gateroom at large.

He stomps away before anyone can say anything.

Lorne comes through next, AR-2 behind him. They're escorting John, who's all wrapped up in a blanket. Only his head and lower legs are visible underneath it, but they're both streaked the same brilliant yellow.

Weir is already flying down the steps towards them. "Colonel, what the hell happened out there?!"

John scrubs at his hair; something that looks suspiciously like a lettuce leaf falls out onto the floor. "You really wouldn't believe me if I told you."

\--

"Rodney? Buddy?" John calls to the darkened room.

"That door was locked," the shapeless lump on the bed says.

John shrugs. "Come on. You didn't lock it like _meant_ it." 

The lump does not reply.

"I brought dinner," John tells it.

"If you brought me a sandwich, they'll never find your body."

John waves the door shut, walking over and setting the tray on the nightstand. "Pork chops and mashed potatoes. Not a piece of bread in sight." He sits down on the edge of the bed. "I even brought pudding."

"Chocolate pudding?"

"Is there another kind?"

A hand reaches out from under the covers. John expects it to go for the food, but it grabs him instead, trying to tug him down the morass of blankets.

"Hold on," John says, slapping at it. "At least let me get my shoes off."

"Make it fast."

He toes off his sneakers and pulls his feet up onto the bed; the covers open, and Rodney drags him down into his nest, throwing the blankets up over their heads.

"Why couldn't it have been something I didn't like?" Rodney moans, pressing his forehead against John's chest. "Why couldn't we have been put into a giant potato salad or something?"

"I'm sure something more humiliating has happened to us."

Rodney looks up at him, narrowing his eyes. "Name one."

John sighs. "Okay, so it was probably the most humiliating thing that ever happened to us."

"How are you not hiding in your room in extreme shame and mortification?" he demands, pulling John closer.

"Because I'm hiding in _your_ room."

"Oh," he says, sounding so surprised and pleased with himself that John can't resist kissing him.

"I'm never going to be able to eat a sandwich again," Rodney moans, once John has pulled away. "I'm going to starve and die."

"Rodney," he chides gently. "You're not going to starve without sandwiches."

"Promise me."

John rolls his eyes. "I promise you won't starve," he swears.

"But-" Rodney starts, but John kisses him before he can protest.

Their dinner's cold once they get around to eating it, but neither of them care.


End file.
